


Nightmare Dorks Underground

by Nightpounce



Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, NDU, Nightmare Dork University - Fandom, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, NDU nagas, Oh Dear, The NDU crew as gods, attempted sacrifice, naga!AU, poor Jack Sickle can't really catch a break, smiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 12:05:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2692337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightpounce/pseuds/Nightpounce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a time and place where the Gods tend to take a hands-on approach, catching their eye is not always a good thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> OK! So, Nightmare Dorks University is an au based around the Wangst Comics drawn by ask-pitchs-wardrobe on Tumblr (http://ask-pitchs-wardrobe.tumblr.com/) - you really should go check them out right now (SO GOOD!).
> 
> Mira-eyeteeth helpfully compiled a blog just for this au and the adorable arseholes that make it up (Kozmotis Pitchiner, Piki Black, Pitch Black, Proto and Jack Sickle). You can find the history for this AU here;  
> http://mira-eyeteeth.tumblr.com/NDU
> 
> This is a very loose AU, people tend to pick and choose what they want to be canon and what they don't. Be warned, this AU has a tendency to eat people (it's all mira's fault i got dragged in!!) and it's full of amazingly talented artists and writers. It also includes Proto's pet taxidermied ferret.....which he leaves in various places around the shared apartment, claiming Mr Pickles likes to watch. The others are less than impressed by this behaviour >>
> 
> This story is what happens when Naga !erse meets NDU (Mira needs to stop encouraging me).

Thunder rumbled and growled, the air heavy and oppressive despite the lack of visible clouds. Gazing out across the lush canopy of the surrounding jungle - easily visible from the temple’s upper steps - arms crossed and feet spread wide, the head priest noted the lightening of the horizon and smiled.

It was almost time.

He listened with half an ear to the noises drifting out from the main sacrificial chamber, the interior still dark despite the lack of a proper roof. Dawn was not far off and once the sun rose, it would illuminate the proceedings. 

Until night gave way fully to the light of day, no torches would be lit within, lest they offend their Gods of Shadow. They had learnt that lesson early on: after the second case of torch lighting-related spontaneous combustion. The Head Priest of the time, renowned for being shrewd, was quick to ascertain that gods of ‘all things dark’ tended to be tetchy if bright flames were suddenly lit within their inner sanctum. The very detailed diagrams that appeared on the walls – drawn in a strange, ever-moving black sand – vividly detailing what the gods felt those lighting the torches could do with the flames had also been helpful in deciphering the cause of the irritation.

“Do you really think this is wise?”

Glancing down briefly before returning his attention to the on-coming dawn, the Head Priest sighed.

“You still have doubts. Surely you realise this sacrifice is necessary.”

His current second-in-command shrugged. “Of course, its necessity was never in question. The ah…candidate, however…..my doubts lie with his suitability.”

“You cannot deny his appeal! The rarity of his form alone makes him the perfect choice.”

The second cast a sideways glance at his superior “Normally I would not question your choice, and if this were merely the bi-yearly offering to the Chaos Shaper, I would rejoice at having one such as he to offer.”

A sigh. “But?”

“But…he did not commit the trespass.”

“I am aware.”

Silence stretched, the second tipping his head back to watch a flock of birds wing across the sky.

“He is more suited to this role.”

“Uh-huh.”

“The one who committed the act is less…refined…less pleasing to the Gods.”

“True, your son is far less delicate.”

A glare was directed downwards.

“He is the better choice! In this troubled time we need all the strong and able-bodied young to fight and hunt. You said yourself he seemed marked, watched over even. How else could one so small and meek survive in this jungle?”

Taking a deep breath and adjusting his ceremonial feathers, the Head Priest gave a decisive nod.

“The choice is made. If the boy has indeed been watched so closely, the Gods will be doubly pleased to receive him.”

Striding purposefully into the sacrificial chamber, he ignored the muttered “Or displeased you touched what was theirs...” and approached the altar where a pale-skinned, white haired young boy lay trembling, limbs chained spread-eagled and eyes squeezed shut.

Ignoring the terrified tears that spilled as the boy’s eyes snapped open to stare up at him, he ran his eyes over the small, delicate form, noting the strategic placement of cloth and rope to conceal signs of manhandling – why did they always struggle? Being disemboweled and sent to join the Gods was an honour! - Yes, the Gods would most definitely be pleased.

Calling for the ceremonial knife and instructing the others to take their places, the Head Priest loomed over the boy, waiting for the chanting and drumming to reach a crescendo before raising the knife high, keen edge catching the first light of the day.

“GODS OF DARKNESS AND SHADOW!”

The shadows in the corners of the room darkened, stretching along the floors and walls even as several unlit torches resting in their brackets burst into ethereal blue flame, causing a number of priests to scramble away, lest their feathers start smouldering.

“WE BESEECH YOU, HEAR OUR CALL!”

The boy currently under the blade whimpered, tugging at his bonds in an attempt to curl in on himself as an irritated, snarling voice echoed throughout the chamber.

“It’s a little hard NOT to hear you, you blithering idiot!”

“Pitch, WHAT is that appalling noise? It had better not be your latest attempt at a night time chorus! How am I supposed to properly drown this city in shadows if….oh, how quaint, do all your believers wear such things?” A second, clearly annoyed voice, joined the first.

“Of course it’s not me and they are our believers, you prat!”

“Whoa, so stressed, it’s not good for you babe, I think it’s only right I help you relax, wouldn’t want you getting wrinkles and spoiling you devilishly good looks ” A third voice, deep and amused, rang out effectively silencing the other two voices.

The priests blinked, shifting and glancing around in confusion before moving away from the shadows as they started to hiss.

“What are you doing here?”

“I can’t visit my favourite piece of tail?”

“Do you mind?! Not in front of the believers!”

“Oh come on~ Let’s inspire a few more myths, it’s been a while since we… Oh hey, an offering is it? Who’s the poor sod this time?”

“We haven’t gotten to that part yet!”

The Head Priest, more than a little disturbed by what was transpiring, cleared his throat before cringing at the feel of predatory eyes sweeping over him. 

“Well? Get on with it!”

“Really Pitch, will you ever learn decorum? CONTINUE MORTAL!”

Shoulders squaring as he sucked in a large lung full of air, the Head Priest gestured with his knife at the young man struggling against his bonds.

“We plead for your forgiveness for the act of trespass upon you sacred land, and offer this sacrifice as recompense.”

“Trespass!? How dare you! Why should we…wait...that boy seems strangely familiar.” The snarling voice trailed off as everyone in the room felt the weight of supernatural attention shift. The boy on the altar whined low in his throat.

“Huh, you’re right! The little snowcone DOES look familiar…Hey Piki, isn’t that the kid you smited by accident a few lifetimes ago?”

“What?!”

Taking the apparent recognition of the victim as a good sign, the Head Priest reached out to grip the boy’s hair, pulling back and down to expose his throat.

“Accept our offering oh gracious G-”

“HOW DARE YOU TOUCH MY JACK YOU HEATHENS!!!”

The last thing the Head Priest heard was a panicked “I HATE being right!” before the world erupted into flame.


	2. Chapter 2

The jungle was never truly silent, the steady drone of insects a counterpoint to the myriad bird calls that echoed through the canopy, the startled shriek of monkeys or the rumbling growl of a predatory cat often joining the chorus. Despite this, there would be times when the noises would lull, birds and animals falling silent and still, the buzz and hum of daily life muted, as if the jungle itself had drawn a breath and held it.

Smoke curled slowly upwards, caught in the gentle breeze that seemed to spring from nowhere, whispering over tumbled stones and sighing through jagged cracks as it chased the dust and debris through the remains of the once-impressive temple. The clatter of displaced rubble and ping of superheated rock cooling echoed in the hush, which was broken minutes later by the sharp intake of a panicked breath. Ragged coughing and a quiet whimper announced Jack’s return to the conscious world, the breeze shifting around his prone form and clearing the air of any remaining smoke and ash.

Jack-knifing into a sitting position, the pale boy froze before lifting his previously bound wrists and staring in shock as the charred remains of the ropes and metal used to bind him crumbled, the fibers around his ankles dissolving into ash, metal bracers warped and slipping free as he drew his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms tightly around them. A quick glance around the dark interior confirmed he was alone, the vaguely humanoid shapes charred into the floor and walls his only company in the flickering, eerie light of the still-burning torches. 

Shadows danced along the walls, licking at the ceiling and seeming to slither down the pillars as he uncurled and pushed himself towards the edge of the altar. He was alone…He could handle alone, in fact, he much preferred being alone to being surrounded by loud, heavy-handed priests who had far too little regard for his personal space and the concept of proper clothing and an unhealthy obsession for feathers and all things sharp and pointy.

It hadn’t always been that way, Jack’s parents had assured him he’d been a happy baby, laughing and burbling away for hours in his crib, arms raised and fingers twitching as his little eyes tracked the shadows on the roof. Once mobile, he’d spent his time tottering or crawling around the dwelling as fast as possible, fascinated by the play of shadows on the walls and floor and following them for hours, often pausing to hold certain objects of interest up to the empty air as if for inspection.

Jack did have vague memories of chasing the giant black and gold butterflies that hovered near the fringes of the jungle from one patch of shadows to another - his parents had always found it vaguely disconcerting that Jack would chase the butterflies into a patch of shadows in one direction only to reappear, giggling and chasing the same butterflies from a completely different direction moments later.

As he’d grown, some of his carefree attitude had waned, replaced by the nagging feeling of being watched and a budding sense of responsibility for his new, younger sister. Though it wasn’t until the unfortunate death of his family, killed when a gargantuan river crocodile devoured his family’s boat one fishing trip – a boat Jack had also been in until moments earlier when a branch from a tree on the bank, bent and trapped for years, had snapped free and curved out across the water, snagging a strap across Jack’s back and hauling him bodily into the bushes on the bank – that he had truly started to withdraw. People had treated him differently after that, claiming he was marked by the Gods, his white hair and skin and striking blue eyes only fueling the whispers until he’d ended up in his current predicament.

Sliding slowly from the altar – the only section of the room not heat-blistered and black – he took one hesitant step forward before crouching, arms thrown up to shield his head as an unimpressed snarl split the air.

“Oh yes, very good. Now look what you’ve done! Do you have ANY idea how long it will take them to repair our temple?”

“It was a perfectly reasonable reaction! You saw them, man-handling my Jack! Honestly, I turn my back for a few months…”

The aforementioned boy cringed, pressing closer to the floor in the ensuing silence.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Go get him then!”

“Go get – No! Are you insane?! I can’t appear like this, look at my scales! They’re not properly polished!”

“You see, Pitchiner? THIS is what I was forced to share an egg with!”

Jack started to edge away from the altar and towards to outer entrance, gulping in little hiccuping breaths as the disembodied voices continued to echo through the room.

“Hmph well, just because one of us has no standards -”

“What is THAT supposed to mean?!”

“Uh, guys? Guys, he’s leaving, is that a problem?…Oh for fuck’s sake.”

Jack launched himself for the opening, bolting out into the light before the other voices could respond. Freedom! Now all he had to do was climb down the giant steps that led up the outside of the temple and… He pulled up short, staring in disbelief at the cracked and jagged remains of the steps.

“Nooo oh god, oh god” His eyes started to water in fear and frustration.

“You called?”

Freezing, watery blue eyes peeked back over hunched shoulders, staring in disbelief at the huge, thick coils spilling over the rock behind him. Dark, olive green scales patterned with even darker brown splotches and lightening to a golden underbelly shone, catching the sunlight as the muscles underneath rippled. Dragging his eyes upwards along the main length of the body, Jack whined as his eyes caught on a ridge of muscle and bone where scales stopped and smooth bronze skin began. Craning his neck back further, he swallowed at the sight of two sets of heavily muscled arms, crossed across an equally broad and muscled chest. Disbelieving blue eyes finally locked with an amused golden gaze.

“Hey there kiddo, name’s Jack right?”

Jack gaped “N-no-”

The creature tilted his head and leaned forward to peer at him “You sure? Piki said –“

“No, Y-y-yes that’s my …but you…y-you can’t…the statues in the village a-are –“

The thing grinned, fangs glinting. “HAH! You recognise me! Yup, I’m rather proud of those statues. They kept getting them wrong at the start but it was nothing a few visits in person couldn’t fix, it’s the little details that were tripping them up, ya know?”

Jack suddenly thought he understood why the creator of said statues was said to have gone insane, developing an irrational fear of the colour green – unfortunate when living in the jungle.

“You’re a Go-“

“God? You bet! Kozmotis Pitchiner, Naga God of Warfare, Conquest and occasionally,” he reared up and back, spreading all four of his arms wide “Hugs! Seriously, look at me. I was MADE for hugging!”

Jack did look, staring up at the four-armed, muscular half-snake, half-humanoid God.

Then he bolted.

Blind terror carried him all of five meters before a weight hit him from behind, strong arms pinning him to a broad chest as he was lifted from the ground.

“Man, that was great! You’re fast! Not as fast as me obviously but still, that is one hell of a gait! You’d make a great sprinter!”

Flopping back to rest amongst his coils, the huge naga kept a firm grip on the shuddering, terrified boy in his grasp, cradling him close and lifting a hand to card through snow-white hair.

“Aw, come on Snowflake, it’s all good, I’ve got you, and I ain’t gonna hurt ya kid.”

“Please, p-please let m-me go!”

Large clawed fingers cupped his chin, carefully swiping tears from his cheeks whilst tilting his head back till blue met gold once more.

“Nah, sorry squirt, no can do. See, those priests made you an offering. That means you belong to us now.”

Jack whimpered, closing his eyes as a thumb brushed feather-soft from one temple, across the bridge of his nose to the other and back again, repeating the soothing motion as another hand rubbed circles between his shoulder blades.

“You really wouldn’t want me to leave you here anyways, I doubt they’d be happy to find you alive and the temple like this, right?”

Careful claws scratched soothingly at his scalp.

“Stop molesting him you four-armed brute!”

Jack jerked, Pitchiner’s hand catching the back of his head before he gave himself whiplash, heart hammering in his chest as the voice from the inner sanctum returned.

“Pssh please, it’s called a hug, Piki,” 

Pitchiner paused to leer at the sky before dropping his gaze to wink at Jack, still firmly trapped in his arms. “Not surprised you don’t know the difference, but in the interests of your continuing education, why don’t you ask your brother what I did with him the last time we -”

“Yes thank you Pitchiner!! I’m sure no-one is interested!”

“Well, actually Pitch, I was wondering about the claw marks on the ceiling…care to explain how-”

“I have no idea what you are talking about, none!”

There was a pause and Jack couldn’t help but imagine the speaker running a frazzled hand through his hair.

“Awww no need to be shy, babe.”

“You shut-up! and get back here already! Some of us have work to do, unlike you, you lazy bastard. That temple won’t rebuild itself and I refuse to have you be the first thing our worshipers see when they come to start the repairs.”

“Yes dear, whatever you say…Do I get a reward for good behaviour if I -”

“NOW, Pitchiner!”

Jack didn’t even have time to blink before the world blurred around him.


End file.
